


Servant of One Mistress

by Gabriels_Mourning



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Book is better than the movie, Canon Compliant, Episode Related, F/M, In the Hovel, Mergana Fan Fav Scene, Merlin goes wild in the forest with Morgana, Merlin tied up, Season 4 Episode 6, Sort of Non-consensual, mergana - Freeform, who wouldn't want to make out with Morgana?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-12
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2018-02-17 04:18:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2296358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabriels_Mourning/pseuds/Gabriels_Mourning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not quite as Dom/Sub as it sounds, sorry, ha ha... more about Morgana having control over Merlin.  First two parts will be direct Canon, just with internal dialogue changing the view of the scene, then I'll diverge a bit, but hopefully stay in character.</p><p>Mergana Fan Favourite Scene involving our favourite warlock and femme fatale nemesis…<br/>Just wanted to change it up a bit, and have a bit of a magic revealed moment, and for that blasted moment we all wanted to occur, where those eyes stop just being looks…  </p><p>Internal dialogue is in Italics.<br/>Dialogue in this chapter is from a script transcript I managed to find online that had the spell actually written out.<br/>I own nothing, of course, this is all from BBC, blah blah legal jargon blah...</p><p>As always, comments and kudos are very welcome!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Captured

He wasn’t dead. That was the first thing that Merlin noticed. Actually, the first thing he noticed was that he was covered in water, and it was so cold he vaguely wondered if he were drowning. But the moment lasted only a heartbeat, as he struggled for the surface, yet didn’t move, the world swaying about him. When the world stopped finally spinning, Merlin could feel the pain in his wrists and opened his eyes wide, his blue orbs locking onto a heart wrenching, familiar sight.

“Good Morning,” she mocked, her voice trailing up into the sneer that was once a smile.

“Is it?” A soft sound and then she took two steps forward, coming closer, and Merlin felt that old familiar heat deep in his spine. Her tone was playful and charming, false concern dripping until he once again was mourning the woman Morgana had long since ceased to be.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” she cooed, tilting her head. Merlin closed his eyes, feigning more pain that he was feeling. At least, physical pain. “We have a lot of catching up to do. After all, I haven’t seen you since you condemned my sister to a slow and painful death, thwarted my plans to take over Camelot, and forced me to live in a hovel…” Merlin felt his chest hollow.

_Morgause cursed you and I had to kill you to save all of Camelot. If there had been a way for me to take that death on myself to save you, I would have. I won’t ever feel sorry for putting her through pain after I had to watch you die…_ His thoughts flashed hot and quick in his mind, but he forced a wan smile on his face. The pain from the manacles began to spread from his wrists to his shoulders.

“Couldn’t do me a favour, could you? Let Arthur know; he still thinks of me as an underachiever, but I’m quite proud of THOSE accomplishments. I can die HAPPY.” Her eyes took on a gleam of cunning, and distractedly he noticed that her hair was messed as though she’d just come from bed, snarled and twisted, yet still beckoning of his fingers. Another flash in her eyes as she gave a condescending pout that stirred other images in his mind, despite being chained at her mercy.

“Oh, you’re not going to die. Oh no. I’m not going to make it that easy…” The pain flared in his shoulders again and the ache spread across his face and down to his chest, and then everything went black as his wound began to weep again. Merlin gave a moan and passed out.


	2. Ælfscíene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgana has Merlin in her hovel and things play out as they did in S4Ep6.  
> But there's a lot more internally going on, as there always is with Mergana. (This is why the book is always better than the movie)  
> And now we get into the divergence from what DID happen and move into what COULD have happened...
> 
> Internal Dialogue is in Italics, Spells in Bold Italics.

She cleaned his wound in silence, her head tilted to the side as he awoke, staring at her.  There was so much in him that mourned at that moment.  Her smile, her eyes, her joy, the softness to her… that was what he mourned of her the most.  He missed her softness.  She was brittle, and hard, sharp and acidic.  This was a woman who scoffed, when she should have been laughing and giggling.  Merlin dropped his head.  How he missed her, the Morgana that had always been such a presence for him.  She had drawn his eyes and captured his breath.  She was an angel, sent from heaven to teach him about himself all the things he wished to learn.  How he ached for her.

“You know, there’s one thing I don’t understand, Merlin.”  Her tone was conversational, almost friendly, as though they were sitting over a cup of mulled wine by a fireplace.  Merlin centered on that vision for a moment, of her hair, trailing down her body and her eyes dancing in the dark.  His ache for her grew stronger as she tended to his ripped collarbone. 

“You’re Arthur’s servant, nothing more.”  _Nothing more,_ his mind whispered.  Her lips were still soft in amongst this, though the cold had set in, paling her alabaster skin further.  His feverish skin felt rested under her cold touch, though she caressed at the wound, dabbing it clean.  Clean enough, he thought.  “Yet time and again, you’ve proven yourself willing to lay down your life for him.”  _As I would have for you, my lady.  You were worth my every joy, were you not my greatest mistakes._

“What are you doing?”  His voice sounded thick and rusty, and for a moment, he felt the heat in his throat catch and snare the words.  He cleared his throat.  Morgana’s eyes drifted into his lazily and then moved away.  Her touch was kind.  Kind enough to break his heart. 

“Have you never seen Gaius clean a wound before?” her tone mocked him.  Always her tone mocked him.  She challenged him, had always challenged him, with everything she was, where everyone else discounted him.  He was nothing to everyone else.  And now he was nothing to her, as well.  Merlin straightened slightly.  He was a mere serving boy to Morgana as well; just an inconvenience. 

“All right, I know WHAT you’re doing.  What I don’t know is WHY.”  His tone was so harsh and accusing that it surprised him, and Morgana had his chin in her sharp hands in an instant, sneer twisting into snarl in front of him.  It didn’t matter to him.  Even her snarl was beautiful.  Merlin almost laughed.  He was going to die because he couldn’t think straight.  All he could think of was her.   _Idiot_...

“I believe I asked you a question FIRST,” she snapped, her eyes dark and flashing in her anger.  _Gods but she’s so beautiful.  Why can’t my anger at her be real?  I just want her to… to… I just want her back.  The way she was.  Not this hatefully twisted and gnarled version.  She was feathers upon silk.  She was not this.  This was not my Morgana._   “Why are you so loyal to Arthur?”

“I don’t expect you to understand, Morgana.  You have no sense of duty, no sense of loyalty.”  _Why would you?  I would have followed you through Albion’s destiny, Morgana.  And even I betrayed you and hurt you.  How could you ever love me?  I never will.  Gaius was wrong, those years ago.  I AM a monster._

“You’re wrong.  Don’t think I don’t understand loyalty just because I’ve got no one left to be loyal to.”  _I know, Morgana.  If things had been different, if I’d not been so afraid…  maybe our loyalties would not have been so divided.  If I’d been honest with you and spoke what my fear had hidden, then maybe our loyalties would not have had to have been divided._   She reached out to him again and slid her hand up under his tunic.  Her eyes narrowed as they spread over the bunched, swollen muscle there, and then she began to speak.  A hum filled Merlin’s blood as her words murmured over him, but he knew the spell, and relaxed, feeling it’s affects even as the words died out.  His head lolled back, allowing the magic to heal him, for the moment not even able to ask why. 

“ **Ic ðe ðurhhæle ðinu licsar mid ðam sundorcræft ðære ealdan æ. Drycræft ðurhhæle ðina wunda**!”  She tilted her head to him and her eyes flared as Merlin gave a soft moan, the magic spreading over his skin and soaking in, already working on the swelling.  Merlin collapsed and Morgana moved past him towards her chest, seeking the medallion that would summon the Femorrah. 

Except something stopped her, a random thought that began to play over in her head, again and again.  She turned back around and stared hard at Merlin.  After a moment, the healing magic had brought him back to consciousness, stimulating the healing vessels in his body and revitalising him. 

“You didn’t flinch.”  His eyes struggled to stay open, but Morgana moved forward with a sudden clear certainty.  Merlin’s face stretched as he tried to push his flagging eyelids up, and she slid a surprisingly soft hand up the side of his neck and cupped his face in her hand, staring into his eyes.

“Merlin.”  She leant in closer to him, and when her breath reached his lips, he moaned her name and straightened with a sigh.  Morgana paused and held him there, their faces quite close as she considered, her mind growing ever certain.  “You didn’t flinch.”

“W-what-t?” he struggled, his face showing his struggle to remain conscious. 

“When the "Witch of Camelot" casts a spell, the people tremble.  But you didn’t.  You’ve always been braver than Arthur gave you credit for, but this, Merlin…  You recognized the words.”  Merlin frowned at her, his lips spread as his head bobbed with the thickness of his heartbeat.  But Morgana continued, nodding to herself. 

“You tilted your head back, accepted the spell when you recognized it.  But what would a servant know of magic… unless…  Merlin!”  Her sudden terseness caught his attention again as he swayed, his eyes snapping back into focus as he sagged against the cutting edges of the chains binding him to the sleeper above. 

“Does Gaius have books of spells from before the Great Purge?”  He stared at her, breathing heavily as the pressure against his will nearly broke him.  His lips moved and she pressed her ear against his lips.

“Ælfscíene…”  Her hands were around his waist, holding him against her as his breath eased over her ear, hot and liquid against her cold skin.  Morgana looked at him, understanding the word for its meaning.  Her mouth worked but her mind could not comprehend it. 

“You think me…?”  She moved back from him slowly as he passed out again, slumping against the chains.  Merlin’s body, before her, was limp and lifeless, though his chest moved shallowly.  She stepped away from him and sat at her bed, rubbing her shoulders.  For the first time in as long as she could remember, she looked at the mirror by her dressing table and ran a hand through her hair.  She was the picture of cold bitterness, and had every right to be.  And yet, he’d called her beautiful.  Morgana stared at him, deciding that he was babbling, or hallucinating.  But deep in her mind’s depths, she saw his goofy smile and his poet’s heart. 

And knew he still thought of her as ethereally, magically beautiful.


	3. The Déorfald of Merlin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin's imprisonment hasn't yet ended. And Morgana has a plan to break him, once and for all.  
> How can he resist his old friend, when she has new ideas to get under his skin?

Merlin’s mouth was filled with flavours; ghosts of the scents he had known from his work with Gaius.  He cleared his throat and tried to open his eyes.  A fresh breath in through his nose told him he was in a room filled with dust and dirt and dried herb.  He breathed out again.  He was cold, achingly cold.  His arms were sore and numb, and his hips and back were aching.  His head throbbed in pain, and he could smell faint jasmine oil mixed with rose petals that tugged at his foggy memory.  He knew someone who had that scent.  Saliva filled his mouth and he swallowed, examining the tastes that filled his mouth and trying to determine what the foul tasting burn was. 

 

_Lethen Petal.  Valaerien Root.  Wild Mint.  Fresh breath and forgetting.  What am I supposed to have forgotten.  Where am I?_   He forced his eyes open again, succeeding this time.  Something had woken him.  He looked around, his eyes focussing on the angry red wound on the front of his shoulder, over his collarbone, that had been expertly cleaned and treated.  It didn’t ache, even in the cold; giving testimony to the person working on it.  Who he couldn’t remember, nor how he came to be there.  Perhaps that was what he was supposed to forget.  Old, thin pants kept his modesty, but that was all, as the cold was seemingly attacking him, eating at him.  There was a slight fire in across the room somewhere, but its heat didn’t reach him.  His hair was damp and clung to him, although whether from the fever sweat that coated him or from water, he couldn’t tell. 

 

What had woken him was a noise behind him, as it occurred again.  A figure moved and he sagged in relief.  Morgana moved in front, quickly and quietly rummaging through the strewn about pots and plants on the table.  Her boots were dirty and her pants tight against her, with a tear across one thigh.  Her mail was clean, though, covered in her loose hair.  She looked like she’d been through hell as she kept rummaging.  At her side was an empty scabbard for a sword.  Her hair was messy in a very appealing way. 

 

“Wake up, Merlin, I need you.”  Her voice was hoarse but concerned, more worried than ordering.  He moaned a little, trying to lift his head to her, and she whipped around.  Her eyes caught at his, and then she was nearly against him, ripping off her gloves to touch him.  Her fingers ran lightly over his skin, checking the shoulder wound then settling on his hips.  She didn’t notice his sudden embarrassment, with her so near his naked body.  A flush rose to her cheeks though, as she tried not to look at him.  He felt naked before her, and not in the way he’d always imagined.  He blushed again, fearing the sudden heat to his cheeks in the cold.

 

“Merlin, I’ve been so worried…  Are you hurt?”  Her soft voice didn’t carry, but they were so close enough that he heard every word.  His ears began to throb as she stared at him, her lips full and thick. 

 

“My shoulder…  it’s fine.  I don’t know.”  Morgana bit her bottom lip and then her hands drifted up and ran up and down, making pretence at warming him, in reality, just running fire over his body.  Merlin felt a different sensation then, as the jasmine and rose oils swam around him, not smothering his sense of smell but enticing him to breathe deeper, to catch at it.  Morgana ducked her head, concern on her face as she caught his eyes.  The jasmine scent grew strong and he realised it was her perfume.  He breathed deeper, steadier as he focussed his eyes on her. 

 

“Do you know where the keys are, Merlin?”  He shook his head.

 

“No.  I don’t…  I don’t remember anything.  How did you find me?”

 

“Arthur tracked you; we’ve been separated,” she whispered, checking at the manacles, but not budging them.  “There are bandits about.  We fought them off, but I got cut off from the patrol.  I fell down a ravine and worked my way past that creek outside, and saw smoke from the fire.  I backtracked and found the hut, now here I am.”  Her eyes flicked back down to him and he saw concern in her bright green eyes.  “I… You’ve been gone two weeks.  I thought I’d…”  She paused and looked back at the manacles.  “That we’d lost you.  Gaius has been sick with worry.  Arthur, too.”  Merlin scoffed for a moment at the thought of Arthur being worried about him.  He was so tired.  Part of it was the Valerian root, he knew, but he felt exhausted, unable to go on.  He didn’t know how Morgana had been able to make it this far.

 

“Arthur.  Where is he?”  Morgana came in close to him again and touched at his chin with her fingertips, so very close.  For a moment, he leaned forward towards her, wanting to kiss her.  Then he cleared his throat and shook his head.  Morgana pursed her lips and Merlin’s concentration left him again.

 

“I told you, we got separated.  He could be back at Camelot by now, raising a search party.”  She held him there for a moment, then touched his face again with her soft fingertips.  The jasmine and rose scents twirled around him.  “Merlin…  I can’t find the keys.  I don’t know how long the bandits will be away for.  We both know…I…”  Her chin rose and she was almost defiant.  “I have magic, Merlin.  But I don’t know anything.  If you know of any spells from Gaius’s books, that might help, tell me.  I’ll unlock them or cut them or anything, and we can escape!”  Merlin’s face knit in confusion, and he struggled, pain across his face. 

 

“Gaius doesn’t have any magic books.  Uther banned them…  We’re only allowed access to the library restricts via his express word…  But…”  A light of hope came into his eyes and he cleared his throat and swallowed, using the time to phrase his thoughts.

 

“”I remember reading something when we were looking through the tales of Sigan…”

 

“What books, Merlin?  The library ones, or your ones?”  He looked up at her impatient face, where she was biting her lip.  He tried for as long as he could to stop staring, but everything about her compelled his attention.  He couldn’t stop staring, even when he began to blush, knowing what it looked like.  But she was there, soft and pale yet warm like a flower in the morning sun.

 

“Books, no, there’s only one.  There are words that might work…”

 

“Yes Merlin?  You can tell me.  We know enough of one another’s secrets, Merlin, you can trust me.” 

 

“Trust you…” he echoed.  He was staring again, and Morgana sighed impatiently and then stepped into his arms and kissed him.  Her fingertips landed on his cheekbones as her fingers cupped his chin, holding him to her face as their lips moved together.  The kiss deepened as she pressed herself against him, folding her body along his and pushing against him.  It lasted for seconds and continued, Merlin counting a dozen half beats as they suckled at one another, chasing each other’s lips and tongues back and forth.  It ended slowly, petering out as Merlin opened his eyes.  Morgana’s were still closed and she smiled to herself gently, then ducked her head and smiled again.  Her right hand dropped to her chest, but her left cradled his jawline, her surprisingly soft hand running a thumb across his lips as she gave a lowly murmured sound of consideration.

Surprisingly soft and supple hands.  Because she lived in this hovel.  She lived her.  And she was that one that had strung him up.  Rage gave Merlin sudden strength and clarity, and he surged up, straightening and snarling at her, scaring her backwards.

 

“Your depravity and cruelty know no boundaries, Morgana.  Your enchantments are strong.  But cruel.  You’re an enchantress.”   She stepped back at the venom in his voice, and then looked away, closing her eyes.  When she looked back at him, that same cruel light was in her eyes.  She grabbed his chin, daring him to attack her again, but it was his venomous words that dug at her.

 

“The trick with memory potions is that they work best on the vague ones.  Strong memories have far too many connections in the mind.  Too many pathways to the same destination.”  Morgana regally lifted her head and then her smile came back, the challenging jut to her chin, defying his rhetoric.

 

“Which you’d only know because you have magic, Merlin.  It’s not poor old Gaius that has the book of enchantments, is it?  It’s YOU.”  She shoved his chin back and moved back out of range, sitting across from him and waiting for his failure to sink in.  But instead, he shook his head mockingly.

 

“You don’t seriously think I have magic, do you Morgana?  Why would I still be here if I had magic?”  Her smugness and the challenge in her eyes didn’t fade. 

 

“Because you want to save me.”

 

“Of course I do.  Because I know that there are other ways than hate, Morgana, and Hate is what drives you.”  She stood up again at his tone, and reached out, grabbed the side of his neck with her right hand, and sliding her left around his ribs, feeling the muscle against her fingertips. 

 

“What drives YOU then, Merlin?  Let’s see, shall we?  Let us unravel your mystery…”   She wheeled on her heel and stalked to the fire, which she built back up again from the cold.  She took her mail shirt off and Merlin felt his breath catch in his throat.  He gave a very soft groan as her bare back showed to him, covered in the black tendrils of her silken hair, dropping from the mail as she lifted it over her head.  The tight pants cupped her rear expertly, and she looked over her shoulder until his eyes travelled up and met her knowing smirk, her eyes changing from smug, half lidded emerald to an intense pale jade in the flicker of an instant.  The iridescent orb taunted him, and her smirk twisted her lips up.  The overall affect tore at Merlin, bring a darkness out in him that had him shifting on his chains.  Another smirk came and went as she moved behind a reed screen that was just below shoulder height.  She didn’t let her eyes off Merlin’s face as she wriggled, removing her boots and pants.  Her heavy lidded eyes smiled as she ducked her head, finally breaking eye contact with Merlin as she ducked her head into a jerkin and loosened her hair back out, the curls falling again down her back and over her shoulders.  She locked eyes with him again, tilting her head and suddenly seeming very enticing.  Merlin’s heartbeat thundered in his ears as she stared at him, devouring him with her eyes and growing something dark in him that seemed at any moment to want to consume him.  The enticement continued as she moved languidly to the side of the reed screen and then around it, revealing she was wearing his brown jerkin, and nothing else.  Merlin stared, breathless as she posed for him, tucking her legs in a twisted curve in front of her, and smiling, seemingly certain in the knowledge of her affect on him.  Despite Merlin’s will, she was, and her eyes travelled down his body to the front of his thin pants.  His collar spread wide at her neck, revealing the swell of her breasts and the cream of her shoulder gaping invitingly at him.  Her hair covered her everywhere, revealing slashes of her alabaster skin through their black silk.  She bit her bottom lip as she brought her eyes back up to him and gave a low moan of desire that he could hear in the silence of her room.  She sauntered towards him, putting one foot in front of the other in a casually provocative sway that showed the cream of her white thighs as his shirt moved up over the roundness of her rear.  She dragged one hand through her hair and let it tumble through her fingertips back down her back, her head tilted to the side as though offering her neck to him.  Merlin clenched his teeth, suddenly filled with a raw energy that he’d never have had before this.  He felt alive and invigorated by her gaze on him.  Morgana sat slowly in a chair, crossing her legs in front of her and tucking them up under her, revealing the muscles of her thighs and the smoothness of them.  Merlin’s eyes were betraying him, racing over her body and alighting his thoughts with sinful darkness. 

 

“I’ve got to say, I’m surprised at you, Merlin.  If you showed that body off a bit more instead of these baggy tops of yours all the time, you’d have found yourself a woman in no time at all…  Or at least,” she countered mockingly.  “The attentions of those not fooled by the attraction of big burly men.  I’m not that into bruisers myself, I like my men far more intellectual, though of course the bruiser’s have their place…  normally on their knees.  What about you, Merlin, are you more into big, burly men?”  She was smiling at him tauntingly, her challenging gaze moving up and down his body, raking over his chest and the tips of the pants she’d put on him.  Lazily dragging her finger over her lips and eyeing him off again, she dropped her gaze to the drawstring of the thin pants and smiled invitingly.  She stared further and longer, until finally, Merlin’s body began to betray him, and he shifted under her gaze.  Morgana crossed her legs out in front of her and rubbed them together as she watched his eyes beg her for more.  She leant back and let him watch as she trailed her fingertips down her chin to her chest and then graze across her nipples, writhing her legs together under those cobalt blue eyes of his and smiling at the pure animal looks he was struggling to contain.

 

“I’ll take that as a no…” she laughed delightedly.

 

“Why don’t you just…  why haven’t you killed me?” he demanded.  He was bitter and angry, and Morgana liked it.  This was a hard edge to him that he kept so well hidden from the world, and she’d brought it straight out of him.  There was a dark thrill going through her, and she couldn’t get enough of the feeling.  She stared at Merlin, who watched as she sighed and slumped down onto the bench she was lying on, the sunlight from the window playing on her body.  He wanted her so badly, yet he was controlling himself in all but the minutest of ways, his tiny little tells.  Tells like the thickness pressed against the thin pants.  Morgana dragged her teeth over her bottom lip, hungrily eyeing him, and Merlin’s jaw rippled as he tensed the muscles in frustration.  She moved forward and stepped forward languidly, her feet studied and almost like a slow dance towards him.  She paced like a cat against him, and that jasmine and rose oil scent enveloped him fully.  She leant against him and looped her arms around his neck, moaning softly into him and feeling his hardness press against her belly. 

 

“Oh, Merlin… I’m out here, lonely, all alone…  If only there was someone here, who could save me…”  Her mocking, taunting tone didn’t lessen his torment.  But steeled his will. 

 

“Agravaine not doing it for you?”  Yet again she laughed, delighted.  Her green eyes searched and found his, despite his tilted head. 

 

“How I’ve misjudged you, Merlin.  Look at you, holding all the secrets on the board.  Tell me then, Merlin, What other secrets of mine to you know?”  Her fingers twitched and reached out to his face, but the warlock tilted his head back out of her reach.  She let her head fall to the side and pouted. 

 

“I know secrets, Morgana.  And I know truths.  Like how much it hurt me to give you that Hemlock.  And how much I hated Morgause for making me do it.”  Like a drench of cold water, the teasing fell from Morgana’s face, replacing it with a very real rage. 

 

“Lie again and I’ll cut out your tongue.”  Her voice was skilfully quiet, controlled and calm, even if her eyes weren’t.  Merlin found himself the tiniest victory. 

 

“Morgause didn’t tell you that one, Morgana?  Sisters keeping secrets…  Your sister deserved her death for what she did to you.  I had to end your life to save the life of every single person in Camelot, and I nearly didn’t.  Morgause cursed you to be the cause of that sleeping sickness, Morgana.  That’s why you stayed awake.  She never cared about you.  She never cared about you like a sister should have, with love.  You came second to the death of Uther.  You were nothing more than a pawn to her game.”  And yet, Morgana kept her calm throughout his venomous diatribe.  Merlin had a sudden feeling that he’d simply argued her case for her and won. 

 

“And that’s a notion you understand all too well, isn’t it, Merlin?”  She was triumphant and smiled, standing there in the hovel in Merlin’s shirt, staring at him in only pants.  “You’re an emissary, aren’t you, Merlin?  You know about magic, you knew the druids and how to find them.  At first, I would have thought you had magic, but you’ve been here a half moon and you’ve had ample opportunity for escape…  But are you a druid?  You don’t seem it.  No.    You’re no druid.  So what are you?  You’re very open to most forms of magic, even if you’re without it.  You must have friends of the Old Religion.  And so, you must know who Emrys is.”  She matter of factly ticked off her points within her outstretched fist.  Merlin was too stunned to answer.  The silence stretched long as the exhausted warlock failed time and again to make some excuse up.  Finally, Morgana smiled.

 

“You should have denied, you know Merlin.  Or at least pretended confusion.  You know who Emrys is.  And I WILL know.”    The high priestess came back around and stood in front of him, elated and victorious.  She slid her hand up to cup his face and then brought her own close to his, cheek to cheek and gripping his ear with the ends of her teeth and moaning into it.  Her other hand pressed into his hip bone, moving around to the front and giving him a squeeze of pressure.  Again came his answering moan as she dragged her nails down his hips and towards his pant line. 

 

“One way or another, Merlin.  You’ll tell me all you know.”


	4. Emrys Revealed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin is still Morgana's prisoner, and he's near to breaking point. Morgana isn't about to let him get away, or so she thinks. The problem is, she's pushed him to the brink and now that he's there, Merlin has nothing left to lose. What will happen when he finally has the chance to break free?
> 
> As always, legal jargon to cover our blah blah blah, not our characters, after all, if you'd done it, we wouldn't have had to be on here fulfilling our own wishes... *Sniff.
> 
> Comments always welcome...
> 
> Before we should start, there's a VERY intense scene coming up, if you're below the age of "should know better" then don't read it... Smut be here.

Agravaine’s face was such an interesting shade of failure, Morgana noted.  He was flustered, and didn’t understand.  And it showed.

 

“Your inadequacies aren’t my problem, Agravaine.  You failed me in every single aspect of your existence, and now you question my plans?  Bravery would at least have you recognizing your shortcomings, one would hope.  This is why I like thinkers.  You’re a doer, Agravaine.  You should leave the thinking to those far better equipped.”  Her acid tone pulled him up short, and he gave a quick nod of his head in obsequious deference.  He was a large, formidable warrior turned politician by circumstance, yet Merlin had more defiance and spirit in him that this pretence of a knight. 

 

“I’m only asking you to end this farce, my lady.  Arthur hasn’t given up on the boy, and his search is expanding.  Only last week I diverted a patrol through this area.”  The High Priestess narrowed her eyes.

 

“I don’t fear one patrol.  Or it’s king.  It’s the combined might of Camelot which makes it such a difficult task.  Arthur is supported by counsel far wiser than his scabbard, especially when Merlin is by his side with Gaius and the common sense of the would-be-queen by his ear.”  Agravaine ran a hand through his hair, which Morgana noted with distaste needed cleaning.  Her eyes drifted again to the side of her hovel, where the huge sleeper log that ran the length of the building poked out the side, encased in mud to seal its edges.  On the other side of the wall was slumped Merlin, she knew.  A smile came to her face.  A new torment for him tonight, perhaps, watching her bathe her own hair while he hung there.  The effect she had on him was clear, and Morgana couldn’t help the thrill of excitement that trickled down her spine.  Suddenly, Agravaine was an irritant and nothing more and her patience with him snapped like a dry twig.

 

“He knows of your duplicity.”  His fearful eyes widened and Agravaine swallowed and moved his head, as though to shift the sudden uncomfortable tightness.  She watched him squirm for a moment, feeling her revulsion for his pathetic nature increasing.  He was a tool, she reminded herself.  He would help her get the throne that had been stolen from her.  “Merlin, not Arthur,” she clarified finally.  Agravaine breathed a sudden sigh and then drew his sword.

 

“Then he’s dead and we’ll be done with it.  Arthur will never need to…”  Morgana snapped her hand out and Agravaine’s sword impaled the tree next to him, down to the hilt.  He turned back to her and raised his suddenly shaking hands to show he would take no further action.

 

“Foolish Agravaine… The boy is Arthur’s favourite servant, more so because they cannot through station be friends in Arthur’s eyes.  That’s why he’s searched for him throughout this whole month, and last.  Besides and which, my little brother king knows how weak his reign is without Merlin’s counsel, even if he does treat the boy in such as his own way.”  She looked back to the hovel and a small, admiring smile crossed her features, and her eyes softened.  “If Arthur weren’t so idiotic, he’d have seen that Merlin’s as much a part of his Round Table as any of those sword swinging buffoons.  He’s as much a knight at heart as even Arthur.  When I’m queen, Uther’s tainted flaws will be banished, and his stagnant traditions with him.” 

 

“Then I’m to assume you’re just going to kill the boy or bespell him and let Arthur be tormented before he dies?  Are you going to kill him, or not?  He’s dangerous, alive, if only because of what he knows.  He should die and be done about it.”  Agravaine’s petulance and jealousy cleared Morgana’s musing mind and her eyes glowed.       

 

“My plans don’t include your counsel, Agravaine, and for good reason!”  Her eyes were glowing as she held the magic in the sudden flare of her rage.  Agravaine nodded slowly, again flexing his neck as though it were raw from noose.

 

“Of course, my lady.”  He gritted his teeth and ran his hand through his greasy hair again and the glow faded from Morgana’s eyes, somewhat mollified.  “I merely meant that the boy is wily, and has thwarted many a plan in the past.”  He gave her his fawning smile, fear in his eyes. 

 

“It’s called wits and intelligence, Agravaine.  There’s always been much more to Merlin than meets the eye.”  He gave a false smile, his jealousy plain on his face. 

 

“Well, that can’t be hard, can it?”  Morgana stopped her snapping retort.  Though she hadn’t stopped for a moment in her torment of the former serving boy, his resilience and spirit had always surprised her.  He was so close to broken now, though.  Morgana found herself strangely caught between the satisfaction of breaking a strong opponent, and knowing that Merlin had gotten to her.  If she admitted nothing else in her life, Morgana knew that she respected him.  If he hadn’t had such strong feelings for her, then he never would have been so broken by her.  The torments, the kissing, the softness and kindnesses that she showed him had gotten under his skin quicker than any spell.  But he was close to broken now.  Too weak to resist her.  Again came that thrill as she looked back at the cottage and thought of her prize there.  Perhaps she’d break him tonight, and then she’d have herself an ally in truth, not just in magic.  Merlin by her side, helping her to fulfill her goals, not simply as a removed adversary.  The Formorahh could be defeated.  Her Merlin would not be.  His spirit might have been enough to break the Formorrah’s hold, but with his will truly bound to hers, there would be much more powerful futures ahead for both of them.  Her breath was hot in her throat as she thought of Merlin’s desire for her breaking his own will, and she smiled.  Predictably, Agravaine smiled back at her, thinking only of himself. 

 

“Run along, Agravaine,” she dismissed him with her mocking tone.  “You’ll be missed in Camelot.  Use this time with Arthur distracted in the search to get closer to Arthur.  With Merlin out of the way, most of his sage wisdom will be gone with him.  Arthur’s thinking will be done by those with their brains in their scabbard.”  She found herself quite pleased with that phrase.  Again her lips curved into her pleased sneer.  “Prove you aren’t the same way and bring me some results.  The only thing more pathetic than your constant failures is your insistence that they aren’t.”  He bowed low and tugged at his sword hilt, awkwardly gesturing to it.  Morgana eyes flared and the sword slid out and flew back to Agravaine’s hand.  He moved back over the rise out of sight of the hovel and mounted his picketed horse.  Morgana watched him leave and didn’t return his wave. 

 

Merlin was lost, and broken.  He had gone internally to a place where he wasn’t a prisoner.  But even that respite for him wouldn’t last, she thought.  No matter what Merlin had meant to her, she was facing a future with the throne as hers, and wouldn’t stop at anything to get it.  Long after Agravaine had faded from view, she moved back through the forest and towards the hovel.  When she opened the door, her eyes sought the dark corner where Merlin hung. 

 

He was gone.

 

*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

 

Merlin’s frantic energy burned through him.  The magic had been a mistake.  Necessary, of course, but a mistake nonetheless.  Never truly predictable, and with him being so exhausted, he’d rushed himself and cast the magic that had changed.  Babytalk magic, as Gaius had so often referred to it as, was a very instinctual, reactionary magic.  Simple words and phrases that conveyed the desire for something to happen without the proper forming of method.  Instead of unlock, or loosen lock, he’d chosen geedfreólsian, to restore to freedom.  That had been the mistake.  He felt himself filled with righteous power and energy, running free through the forest as though the essence of that natural act was fulfilling him, invigorating him.  He stumbled and fell deeply into a gully, his aching shoulders feeling thick and slow.  Merlin concentrated hard, trying to slow his mind.  He held his arms out, feeling them cramp and pain as he did so.  He didn’t know how long he’d been there, hanging from Morgana’s ceiling, but his arms told him long enough.  He would never escape, not like this.  The energy bubbled up in him, as though wanting to be free and expand, and he again tried to calm his breathing, to concentrate. 

 

 **“Leoðusár…”** His arms and legs screamed in pain, but a tingle told him that was the magic infusing him.  **“** **Pinung…”**   Again came that rush of pain, over his whole body as his magic isolated his pain, concentrating on it.  It hurt like a fresh wound.  His entire body.  **“Inwærc.  Bánsealf “**   Again the strong sense of magic overcame him, and his bones stopped aching.  With one final surge of strength, he closed his eyes and his fists.  His whole body began to thrum with the power of his magic, and Merlin gave a roar of pain. 

 

 **“Þurhhælan!”**   His scream echoed around the forest, and suddenly there was life, all around him.  He could feel the cold, but in a comforting way, as though his whole body were burnt from the sun.  He felt energised, as if spring had dawned on him in that moment.  Merlin could feel the heartbeat of every creature awake in the forest around him, every crisp leaf and fallen branch.  The world was alive around him and flowing through him.  He took energy from everything around him, nothing so as to notice from any one thing, but he took life from every blade of grass and piece of feathered bark around him, and it filled him to bursting.  There was danger in this power, he suddenly realised, clenching his fists as his heart hammered in his chest and he bit down hard on his teeth, shaking from the sensations running through him.  A cantering beat came to his attention, and Merlin opened his eyes and stared, seeing a white horse far in the distance.  There was an echoing thud of horsehooves against fresh sod as the horse came closer.  The rider wore a soft robe and Morgana’s searching magic hit him, washing over him and not seeing him.  She was searching for him, and he was connected to everything in that moment.  She moved in the saddle as he hid behind a rock, trying and failing to pinpoint him. 

 

Her hands hesitated in front of her, then stretched out and tilted her hood back.  She looked around her, not understanding.  Her spell told her that Merlin was there, told her he was all around her, yet behind and before her also.  The spell had clearly gone wrong, but she didn’t understand how.  A sound of roughed up bark drew her attention to the trees in front of her, but the branches and foliage were too thick for her to see anything.  Again, she moved her hand up, but again, she could feel only Merlin’s energy around her.  Morgana wheeled the horse in frustration, but couldn’t pinpoint anything.  She knew he was around somewhere.  She pulled her hood up again and the soft fabric closed to her face.  She looked up to the sun and found Merlin leaping through the air at her.

 

He slammed into her as she screamed, before she could even form the thought to spell him, and they rolled off her horse and into the leaves and grass beneath the trees.  Morgana reached for her dagger even as they fell backwards, and his hand caught at her wrist, even as his other gripped at her waist and he wrenched, tumbling them down the gully and softening the impact.  When they reached the bottom, Merlin unfurled like a spring, and snapped at her limbs, catching her other wrist and pinning her with his body.  Her cloak billowed out around them and her head snapped back into the leaves in shock as Merlin snarled wordlessly at her.  For a moment she writhed under him, undulating her body to shift and then his power hit her. 

 

It wasn’t subtle.  It was raw and thick about her, like the air was charged with energy.  Morgana froze as it rolled over her body in waves, emanating from him like heat.  The sudden silence in the forest made their panting seem suddenly loud.  He was primal power, his usual control rocked and cracked around them and Morgana shamefully felt herself responding to it.  She wet her lips and breathed in, usually enough to get Merlin to at least shift his gaze for a moment to her body, but this time his face was close to hers and he stared into her eyes, his gaze hot and primeval in its power.  Morgana’s breath rose her chest to press against him and his eyes still locked onto hers.  She stopped struggling as the thought occurred to her that for everything he’d done to her, that he might not have the control to stop whatever he was going to do.  Her stillness affected him, calming him somewhat, but that wild look in his eyes threatened her calm like nothing she’d ever seen before.  They lay like that for but a moment, and then the light in Merlin’s eyes changed, and her legs shifted as he pressed himself against her.  Morgana felt her legs widen slightly, then blushed as he growled low.  His breathing was ragged against her, exciting and hot as he washed over her chest and neck.  His arms were swollen and thick and they pressed against her, even as he did.  Her mouth worked, but no sound came out as he lowered his face and began to kiss at her mouth, softly and tenderly. 

 

Morgana’s eyes widened and she frowned disbelievingly.  But by then he’d shifted his grip from holding her to caressing her wrists and he was kissing her.  And Morgana was kissing him back.  Softness and warmth wrapped together, a tantalising drink slaking both of their unspoken thirsts.  Morgana pushed her body up against him, lost in the sensations he was awakening in her.  It had been so long since she’d felt another person like this, against her and gentle.  Her hands grabbed at his caressing fingers as he slid his hands up to move their palms together, his whole body weight atop her, but only as she likes.  Her legs slid up to cup at his thighs as she squeezed his hands in hers, then moved her right hand down to their hips, pushing her own against him, closer, then moving her hand back to push him down harder onto her, crushing him onto her and savouring it.  Merlin’s control was breaking over her, his hardness thickening alarmingly against her.  Morgana’s breath came quicker and her whole body flushed as she began to pant against him, their mouths fighting as the passion overwhelmed them.  He let go of her hand and brought them to her face, cupping her chin and filling his other hand with her hair, running through it and pressing her against him with a need that felt enough to break her against him like water on the coast rocks.  Their hands were running over their bodies everywhere, and Morgana felt her body shaking with her need as she urged him up wordlessly against her and crushed his chest to hers.  His hands ran down her neck to her top and cast it aside, opening her chest to his hands and lips pressing against her nipples, moving from one to the other with nipping, biting desire.  Morgana gave a low, needy groan and his hands continued down, grabbing her hips and claiming her, pushing her skirt up around her waist and settling on her hips again, spreading out over her skin wide and pressing against her.  His teeth found her neck and she urged her skirt up further, clearing the way for him she moved her feet and thighs over his hips, dragging his pants down and freeing him.  Morgana gasped in shock as his suddenly hot flesh moved against her inner thighs, and felt herself needing him greater than before in that sudden moment.  He was long and hard against her stomach as she kissed him, until her hands found him.  He gasped and leant back, something of the old Merlin in his eyes as he stared at her.  Morgana’s shaking hands guided him into her, and she pushed him against her with her clasping legs, dragging him into her.  Merlin gave a gasp, and his shoulders turned into ropes of thick muscle as he strained to keep himself from falling.  He pushed against her hand, and his every passion and desire again came over her, washing over her and filling something hollow deep inside her soul.  Merlin’s eyes grew wider still and he pulled away from her, his whole body tensing.  He gasped several times and Morgana felt a sudden feeling of honest pleasure in amongst the uncontrolled chaos they were drowning in.  They paused there, as Merlin came back to himself, and licked her lips in nervousness that could not possibly be anything else, despite who she was.  Merlin didn’t flinch as he came to the sudden realisation of what they were doing, as he conquered the chaos that they’d fallen into, that madness of lust that had caught them.  Surely a spell had bound him.  Morgana closed her eyes, feeling naked and suddenly judged, reminding her of a long forgotten fear and pain.  But Merlin didn’t judge her.  He moved inside of her, slowly.  His face was a picture of uncontrolled pleasure, and Morgana stared at the wonder of him.  He lowered his face to hers and mouthed at her chin, seeking her kiss.  Their lips pressed together and he tasted her, savouring her kisses and feeling the rough smoothness of her tongue against him.  This was no bespelled slave, she thought, her mind fragmented and filled with a warm pleasure.  He was asking her permission, giving her a chance to stop and push him away.  This was Merlin.  Not what she’d tried to make him, but what he’d always been.  Even when he was lost, he was still Merlin.  She kissed him, sudden tears flowing as his arms moved around her body, and then she was lost in him.  Merlin whispered her name and light filled her body.  She couldn’t, and didn’t dare for that moment, fight the rush of feelings that came to her, and she melted against him, holding him close and urging him against her.  Too soon, he’s struggling for control and shocked against her as he stopped, despite her near silent whispers.  They kissed at one another, enjoying the savourings and tasting one another in the heat they created.  Sweat and salt and shaking need enveloped them, and Merlin kept moving within her after a moment, dragging his hands through her hair in his need, making her feel as though she were his every reason for desire.  His head lowered to her exposed throat, kissing her and burying his head in her hair, again moaning her name in his prayers to her, worshipping at her body.  They moved up and cupped her head again, gentle but needing her, and kissed at her as he moved upwards until he arched up and moved deeper still inside of her, and Morgana couldn’t help the sudden rush from her, exploding against him and feeling the rocking waves of sensation crossing her nerves like the rolling of thunder, throbbing through her and releasing a million little pressures that had built up inside of her.  Merlin’s body was thick and tensed against her as she began to float back down, and he was filling her, hot and scalding inside her as he came, his whole body against hers and filling her.  Morgana’s breath felt too heavy as she lay back in his arms, and her sudden helpless smile and laugh caught her by surprise.  Her hands moved across Merlin’s back and over his shoulders as she felt him withdrawn with a moan, and then collapse against her again.  Morgana absently smiled to herself as she drifted for a moment in the haze of light surrounding her.  Merlin’s breathing deepened against her and she lowered her eyes demurely, watching the steam from their hot bodies rise above them.  Whatever had just happened was something she’d never found before, she thought as she closed her eyes for a moment.  Atop her, Merlin kissed the skin under him and held her.

 

*           *           *           *           *           *           *

_Merlin stood atop a hill, aged and powerful like nothing believable.  He carried a staff, and stood under a dragon’s gaze, calling down lightning to defeat her armies even as she screamed “EMRYS!” in her hate and anger._

_Blackness seeped in and engulfed her, swirling her around as Merlin called her name, tears in his eyes and voice and Morgause demanding the name of the poison, even as Merlin demanded for her to save Camelot.  The pain in his was unbearable, but only a fraction of it showed on his face as Morgause hesitated.  In his mind, he begged her, screamed in frustration at her for not instantly complying.  Forcing himself to look on Morgana’s body as she slipped away and hating himself for it._

_Softness and light.  Arthur, old and beloved on the throne, Gwen by his side.  A swirl of sandstone and white cobbles, and then her and Merlin, sitting up in a tower as birds sang from a hanging garden at their window.  Light and laughter floated in the window as Morgana watched, seeing a happy, contented Merlin writing in a spellbook, surrounded by apprentices as a beautiful girl with large ears and angel’s hair sat at his feet.  After a moment, she turned to look, not at the Morgana in the vision, or the Merlin in Camelot’s colours and sigil, but at Morgana of now, staring at her as she dreamed.  And smiling.  She reached out, and Morgana reached back for her.  Merlin looked down and leant down, touching their daughter and connecting all three for a moment._

_“Husband?” Morgana asked.  And the world screamed like a mandrake._

 

*           *           *           *           *           *           *

 

Morgana awoke with a startled sob and gathered her clothes about her.  She stared at Merlin, whose eyes sprang open and locked onto hers. 

 

“Emrys.” 

 

“Yes.  I am.”

 

Another sob fled her and Morgana couldn’t help the sudden ache in her chest as she felt everything crashing in on her.  A sudden explosion of birds from the trees on the other side of the gully was accompanied by a familiar voice cursing.  Gwaine.  Merlin turned back to Morgana, but she was struggling up the hill frantically, slipping on the mossy rocks and in and out of side between the craggy rocks and fallen leaves.  Merlin staggered to his feet, bringing his tattered pants over himself as his knees threatened to give way.  Though his wounds had been healed by the spell and sleep, however long it had been for, he was bone weary, and hungry.  He crawled to the top of the gully and threw up a hand to the two horsemen for their attention.  He staggered again and collapsed onto his hand and knees, but they’d seen him regardless and wheeled their horses towards him.  Merlin looked back over his shoulder and locked eyes with Morgana, who had tucked herself between a rock and tree and was watching him from cover.  He didn’t know how he’s spotted her, so well concealed as she was, but he simply had, as though his eyes knew where to find her. 

 

“Merlin!” came Arthur’s delighted cry as he threw himself from his horse and embraced his friend.  He took in all that was against Merlin in that moment, virtually no clothes, and covered with new scars and old bruises.  Merlin looked so tired he was ready to pass out, and in relief, he was.  Gwaine was squatting down beside them, his hands on Merlin as well, gently folding his cloak around his too-thin friend.  Merlin forced a smile. 

 

“Your armour looks terrible.  It’ll take me a month to clean that.  And you, Gwaine.  Only reason I found you was because you still have horrible language.  How did you ever become a knight?”  They laughed as Gwaine helped him onto his horse then settled behind him, his arms keeping Merlin in the saddle as they turned back and began heading for home.  Merlin’s eyes searched for Morgana again, but she was gone.  This time, not even he could find her.


	5. Ic I Heorte, Ic I Sæwol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally finished. 
> 
> It time passed since Merlin escaped from Morgana's hovel and made love to her in the forest. His magic connection to her abruptly ended, and he knew what it meant. Their child had not been born.  
> He traveled to the hovel, but she'd gone, and he had no spells at the time to track her. He needed to find her. But in that time to learn the spells, a lot changed... 
> 
> It's time for a final resolution, one way or another, for Merlin, and Morgana, and the future of Camelot.

“But why now?  So soon?”  Merlin covered a sad smile and Arthur threw his hands in the air, then crossed them behind him, trying to look more regal. 

 

“It’s been nearly a year, sire.  I’m fine, back to health.  And it’s not as though I haven’t crossed back to Ealdor a hundred times or more now.  Its just time I checked back in with my mother, she gets testy if all she receives are letters.  She’s not as agreeable as she used to be.”  Arthur immediately lost his royal demeanour and nodded, though he couldn’t resist correcting his servant. 

 

“Not even a quart year, Merlin…  But of course, naturally you'd need to see Hunith, and I don’t begrudge you that.  It’s just that, now of all times.  You know that things have been dangerously quiet.  It worries me.”  Merlin stopped as the now familiar ache settled again in his chest.  At least Arthur could always be swayed when it came to issues with people’s parents, especially their mothers.  Merlin felt guilty about playing on Arthur’s issues, but also knew that he was going to do anything he had to in order to see this through.  He pulled himself up into the saddle and Arthur looked around him then leaned in close. 

 

“If this helps you heal, Merlin, come back to us safely.  I know whatever happened with Morgana is still… that you’re hurting.”  Merlin didn’t trust himself to speak.  Arthur only knew that Morgana had captured him and kept him prisoner, and that he’d escaped when she’d left to converse with someone.  Not even Gaius knew the actual truth of their time.  Merlin straightened in his saddle. 

 

“I’m sure you can survive without me for a few days, sire.”  The king scoffed and nodded. 

 

“No doubt.  I’m just worried about the horse.  It’s one of my favourites and I don’t want you losing it.”  Merlin gave his king a grin and dipped his head toward the royal chambers far above, where Gwen waved at him from the window. 

 

“Take care of the place until I get back, alright?”  Arthur nodded and clasped hands with him.  Merlin urged the horse forward and headed towards the gate, twisting in his saddle and waving back to Gwen and Arthur. 

 

*           *           *           *           *           *           *

Gwen turned away from the window with a long, deep sigh as Arthur came in, Gaius close behind him.  The three of them shared the sudden loss of Merlin’s presence until Arthur sat down and stared into a wine cup that was too small, though it was still early.  Gwen frowned but didn’t say anything.  Arthur drained it then poured another. 

 

“Is it done, Gaius?”  The old man nodded wordlessly, disapproval on his face and in the wringing of his hands.  “We’ve talked about this, Gaius. Agravaine was Morgana's pawn. We can't risk it with Merlin. He's too valuable and he hasn't been the same since he got back. We know that MOrgana can twist people to her ends. She's done it once too many times for my comfort.” Gwen looked at her hands even as he reached across to touch her reassuringly. Gaius pursed his lips and bowed his concession of Arthur's point.

 

“I know, sire.  And my counsel is now as it was then.  He’s not enchanted or bespelled.  He’s heartsick.”   Arthur rolled the wine in his mouth, swallowing it with a shake of his head. 

 

“Heartsick.  Which way did he turn, Gwen?”  She and Gaius shared a look and then she sighed and closed her eyes. 

 

“Toward the Valley of the Fallen Kings.  Away from Ealdor.”  Arthur raised his cup as though she’d proven his point and he were toasting her for it, though his face was sour and saddened at the notion.  His voice was grim when he finally spoke.

 

“Do you think he’ll kill her?  Or has he already done it?  He’s barely spoken a word of her since we brought him back to Camelot.  Merlin always was a bit lost when it came to Morgana.  I still remember the flowers he used to bring her.”  Gwen smiled at the thought, then sat down next to her husband.  There was a pain in Arthur’s eyes that didn’t reach his calm output, but she’d always known when his heart was at war with his head.  She’d always known, too, that Merlin’s gift was knowing which was the better choice at the best time.  She could only do what a wife would do.  Be there for him, and guide him as best she could when he was lost. 

 

“Merlin’s not a murderer, Arthur.  He’s taken life, of course, in defence of you or Camelot.  But he wouldn’t murder her, not Morgana.”  Arthur leaned forward and interlaced his fingers, wrestling his hands against one another. 

 

“Heartsick, you say, Gaius.  What happened then, that changed them from enemies?  Surely he hasn’t been in love with her all this time.  He would have joined her.”  Gwen leaned forward and touched his arm, smiling gently.

 

“Merlin’s always been so devoted to Camelot, and to you, Arthur.  He loves you like a brother, and would do anything for you, you know that.  He believes in the world that you will reign over, and will sacrifice everything of himself for it.  And that includes what he wants in his heart.  What he’s always wanted.  To save her, and to save Camelot.”  Arthur smiled softly, thankfully at his wife, and held her hand.  His gaze shifted back to his hands for a moment, then to Gaius. 

 

“We'll know soon enough. The horse has been spelled, Gaius?" He nodded, though was clearly uncomfortable. Arthur nodded to him. "I know you don't like lying to him, Gaius. And I know the druid girl wouldn't have hurt the horse, but still. You have my thanks." Gaius bowed again. Arthur stared into space for a moment and then a slight hope came into his eyes. "Do you think he can then?  Save her?”  Pride shone in Gaius’s eyes and he shrugged, a knowing smile coming to the two monarchs seated at the table. 

 

“If anyone can, it’s Merlin.”

 

*           *           *           *           *           *           *

He took a deep breath as he dismounted, not quite hesitant but by no means confident.  The hovel was empty, he knew.  But it was where he would begin.  Traces of Morgana still lingered in the home, and he would use those to track her.  He was only here to figure out which tracks were hers.  His spells were practiced and fresh in his mind.  He was prepared.  It might take some time to find her, but once he did, Merlin promised himself that he would go through with his plans, no matter the consequences.  Or “damn the consequences” as Morgana herself had so passionately suggested. 

 

The door gave way to his touch and swung open, revealing a dark, dank interior.  Merlin moved to her bed, careful not to look at the corner he had once hung in less than a year ago.  His hand moved over the sheets there to find them surprisingly free of the biting cold.  The afternoon sun never reached here so early.  His eyes widened and he whipped around as he realized the lingering warmth was hers.  Morgana sat in the chair by the unlit fire, watching him.  She was frailly thin, her clothing a tattered collection of rags tied together with black lace.  Her eyes were dark, coaled that way but also from the bags, which the darkness did not fully conceal.  Her green eyes bored into him, but she made no move against him. 

 

“You left.  I never thought you’d return.”  Morgana didn’t respond to him for several moments, simply stared at him, then looked away suddenly, and her captivation ceased.  He felt himself facing a stranger, whose blank, apathetic eyes barely registered him.  Morgana’s fire was gone.  Merlin felt himself hurting in a fully renewed pain, a pain that seemed to flare in her regard.  For one such as Morgana, every instance of late seemed to be of pain.  Merlin swallowed as she looked to the side, dismissing him. 

 

“You stared once.  It looked differently than your eyes do now.  Your handiwork not impress you, Emrys?”  Shades of her mocking tone came back, but Merlin sat down in front of her, crossing his legs gracefully and resting his back against her bed. 

 

“I’m sorry.”  She barely registered it again, staring off into space.  Then she blinked, her pain closing her eyes quickly as she scoffed lightly, not caring or believing in what he was saying.

 

“Come back begging for another taste, have you, Merlin?”  She seemed far away, even as she said it.  Playing the role of the bitter would-be queen, but not caring about it.  “You’re sore out of luck today, I’m afraid.  I’m not feeling up to it.”

 

“I’m sorry.  And I know.”  Her head was resting on the back of the chair, her eyes lazily moving about the room.  She gave another scoff.

 

“Is that right, Emrys?”

 

“Yes.”  His voice was distorted by his tears, as he leaned back.  Silently they fell as he stared at her.  Morgana slowly came back into herself as she looked at him, and saw him for the pain he was in. 

 

“What would you have called him, or her?”

 

“Our child?” she asked, mockingly.  She was hurt, and closed her eyes against the open wound of her pain.  She refused his pain, enclosing herself in the cold of her own. 

 

“Yes, Morgana.  Our baby.  Our child, that died.  What would you have called him?”  She slumped back in her chair and stared at him, sullen anger growing in her pale jade eyes as she acidly replied to him.

 

“I hadn’t picked any names out as yet, Merlin.  Pregnancy is so flippantly contrite when it comes to making plans, as I’m living proof.”  He winced at her tone and reached out for her, but she stared at him so hard that he stopped and settled back down against the bed.  Her arms gripped the sides to keep from reaching out to him herself.  “Why do you care,” she snapped, hating herself and for the weakness he brought out in her.  “You’re not the one who lost it.”  Fire flared in his eyes and his jaw set stubbornly as he leant forwards to her, but didn’t move from his spot at the foot of her bed. 

 

“I think Anna, for a girl.”  His tone was soft and mourning.  He seemed lost in the moment, but glad of it.  If Morgana didn’t know better, she’d have thought he was mourning a loss that wasn’t his to mourn.  Not really. 

 

“And Arthur, for a boy?”  Her waspish anger was failing as he stirred the pain in her all over again.  Morgana knew she was close to crying, which only made her venom more potent to him.

 

“No,” he smiled.  “Morgan.”  Her heart skipped a beat and the pain crashed in, blurring her vision for a moment.  She tilted her head to the side and curled up into her chair, tucking her legs in and wrapping herself in her arms.

 

“Morgan for both would have worked.  But I still like Anna.  Either way, I would have been happy.”  He nodded to himself and Morgana wiped at her cheeks with her rag covered hands.  

 

“Leave, Emrys.  You’ve no right to my pain, and what happened once was long ago.  We’re not destined to be lovers; we’re destined to destroy.”  He shrugged nonchalantly and shook his head, staring at her without blinking, evoking in her the thoughts of his previous intensity in her arms.  She hugged her hands about to stop them moving elsewhere.  

 

“I’m not going to abandon you, Morgana.”

 

“How noble, Emrys.  Again, you’re sore out of luck.  As I am as well, it seems.  My knight in shining armour still come to save me is just another to let me down as well.  Is it any wonder, you’re such a fool.”  Merlin didn’t let her faze him, but looked around, staring at the beam and then the chains, still on the floor covered in dust.  He rubbed his wrists and dashed away a tear with the corner of his sleeve. 

 

“And how did I let you down, Morgana?  You ran away.  I’ve searched for you.”  Morgana didn’t move from her chair, but her shoulder shifted as he admitted his search, though what it meant he didn’t know. 

 

“You didn’t search hard enough.  I was on the Isle of the Blessed, where the Rowan Tree sheltered me from the rest of the world while I bled.  While all the world hated and feared me, I was bleeding, alone.”  Merlin did get up then, moving towards her and sitting at the table, closer to her.  She knew, but didn’t act on it. 

 

“I don’t hate you.  I never hated you.”  She scoffed at him then and her head turned, showing her tear streaked face.  But her derision still held him, as magnetic as her eyes. 

 

“No, you’re a lost puppy following me home, having been fed a few scraps, you’re now begging at my table.”  She indicated the table he sat on with a tilt of her head, and Merlin’s jaw clenched again. 

 

“Damn it, Morgana, I’m here for you.”

 

“I don’t need you.”

 

“You never did.”  She turned back away from him.

 

“Then get out!”  She stood from her seat and moved across, bringing the fire to life in front of her with a wave of her hand. Merlin didn’t move, and she leant a snarl to her words.  “Get out, I said.  Go away.  Leave me, I don’t need you, and I never will!”  The last surged the fire in front of her and she heard Merlin’s footsteps receding towards the door, which opened and shut with force.  Morgana didn’t move until the tears stopped, and then took a deep breath.  But it broke her, wracking sobs escaping her as she hugged her belly.  She leant against the stone mantel and sobbed, painful wracking sobs that shook her whole body.  And Merlin was there, his arms around her, holding her and cradling her.  The sobs didn’t stop, and Morgana turned against him, burying her face in his neck as she sobbed, taking the comfort he offered because in that moment, if only in that moment, she admitted to herself that she needed him.  

 

He rocked her and whispered that it was going to be alright, because after everything she had been through, she was still and always would be the strongest person he’d ever known.  The silence stretched long when she stopped crying, and her hands unclenched from Merlin’s shirt and moved down her belly.  Merlin’s own hand followed, sitting atop hers.  Morgana spread her fingers, letting his interlace with hers across her. 

 

“Maybe…  there’s too much hate in me to carry a child that pure of heart.”  His arms cradled her and he kissed at her temple, through the mess of her hair. 

 

“Maybe you’re too much hurt by everything.  I’m sorry I wasn’t here.  Or wherever you needed me to be.  I’m sorry I wasn’t here, for you.”  She didn’t immediately discard him, but instead leant back and stared at his eyes.  Merlin’s pain softened as he stared into her pale jade orbs and he looked down again, not at her body, but in shame.  He honestly believed that she had gone through it alone and that it was his fault.  Morgana had believed that too, at least in her hurt and rage.  But with his arms around her, his feelings were simply too honest to be discounted.  “I’m so sorry, Morgana.  It’s all my fault.”  She stared at him for a heartbeat, then lowered her eyes and head, nuzzling in to the crook of his neck as he stroked her hair against her, combing it out of leaves and twigs. 

 

“You weren’t there, Merlin,” she offered, surprising them both with her soft, forgiving tone.  “I’m the one who ran.”  Her begrudging tone was offered sincerely, and Merlin kissed the top of her head.  “With everything that happened, I wouldn’t stand there to be mocked.  And so I left.”  Her calm tone belied his next words, and the defiant heat that he spoke them in. 

 

“I would have defended you.”  Confused, Morgana didn’t move as she tried to understand, before he pulled back and gently disentangled them.  He moved about the hovel, putting water in a put to boil over the fire, and searching for food.  When there was none, Merlin concentrated and spoke a spell of complicated length, staggering slightly when the force of the spell rocked him.  But a platter of fresh bread, cheeses and smoked meats appeared before him on the table.  He brought up some herbs from his pouches and steeped them in the boiling water.  Morgana rose and sat at the table, staring at him as he moved about, cleaning cups and plates before setting them out on the table.  He caught her eyes on him and shrugged. 

 

“I know you’d never need me to defend you, but there are many forms of attack.  Judgement, that’s something differ…”

 

“Does Arthur know you have magic?  Does he know everything you’ve done for him?”  He paused as he lifted the kettle with magic, then poured two cups full and set the kettle near the edge of the fire.  The dried wood was burning quickly, and Merlin silently thanked whoever was watching that the chimney was clear from debris, somehow. 

 

“I… no.”  He sat down and gestured for her to eat, which she did so, suddenly ravenous.  Her eating slowed when she came to the smoked meats, savouring the chicken breast and honey ham.  They were her favourites.  It was a spell that Merlin was particularly proud of. 

 

“Then you’re not here to challenge me as a sorcerer.  Are you here to end me?”  He didn’t answer straight away, but watched her eat.  Morgana had little life left in her, though she seemed to be tasting the smoked chicken slowly, and for a moment, he wondered if she searched for tastes of poison.  He lowered his head.  He would never blame her if she did.

 

“Because you need me, Morgana.  The harder you push me away, the more I know it’s true.  Not to protect you from anyone else.  But to help you win against your own hate.”  She eyed him as she sucked her fingers clean, and rubbed them on her rags to clean them, then leant back.

 

“Still think you can save me, Merlin?” she asked softly, her eyes lowered and looking away. 

 

“Why not?  You saved me.”  She scoffed and her head moved as she sneered at him.  But her eyes never changed as they searched his face, looking for something he knew nothing about. 

 

“A simple healing spell, as you no doubt already know, Merlin.  Don’t read too much into it.”  He was shaking his head before she finished. 

 

“No, Morgana.  You saved me.  Not your magic.  I believed in Camelot and what it could be because you were there.  A princess deigned to convince her friends that my little village was worth saving.  If that was a queen, willing to do that, I’d have given my life to her and her Camelot, and gladly.  That’s what it was with Arthur.  He’s proven himself in so many ways since then, but you are, and always will be, the first thought when I think of the goodness in Camelot.”

 

“You think of me now, even now, and that’s what your thoughts lead you to?  The first thought in your head when you think of all the things that I’ve done and crimes I’ve committed is Ealdor?”  She couldn’t believe what she was hearing, and her disbelief showed.  Shades of Merlin’s old playfulness shone through as he gave a sudden grin and tilted his head in consideration.

 

“No, the first thing I generally think about is a dress that flowed like it’s colour; rich red wine on white silk.”  She stared at him in confusion, and then the tiniest hint of her forgotten smile teased her lips.

 

“The night to really remember.  The night you saved Arthur’s life.  You remember the dress?”  He shrugged, and his hands stilled in his lap, then he looked up, catching her eyes for a single, intense heartbeat.

 

“No, you were the one to remember.  The dress was just something you wore that night.”  She stared longer this time, taking him in.  He was being sincere, and honest to her.  Morgana’s hands moved over her stomach again, remembering that vision she’d had of the little girl by his feet and the warmth he’d felt in the vision as she watched him.  But that dream was dead.  Their child was dead.

 

“Why ARE you here, Merlin?”  Her question was more direct this time, her curiosity winning out. 

 

“In the futures you’ve seen…?”  She nodded, motioning for him to continue.  Merlin forged ahead, quickly.

 

“In the futures you’ve seen, magic is free throughout Camelot, when you rule.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And when you don’t?  Rule?”  She shrugged, casting her memory back.”

 

“Arthur and I contend for the throne, and he never abolishes the laws restraining and persecuting those with magic.  They never get the freedom to live their own lives.”  Merlin nodded to himself, clearly caught up in his thoughts.

 

“I once begged you to help me find another way.  I have to ask, Morgana.  I won’t judge you on what you say next, I swear.  But what is more important to you?  The throne, or the freedom to practice magic without persecution?”

 

“The throne is mine by birthright.”  Her answer was automatic, but Merlin shook his head in frustration.

 

“That’s not what I asked.”  Morgana thought for a long time about his question, and didn’t like the answer when she finally admitted it to herself.

 

“It’s all that’s given my life purpose for so long now.  If everything that’s been sacrificed was for nothing… I’m not sure I could live with what I’ve done.”  Merlin smiled as if she’d given him a great gift.

 

“Then such a sacrifice would surely bring you great reward.”

 

“Such as what, Merlin?  Life is never fair, I’ve noted.”  Merlin leant forwards, towards her, and reached out to her, touching her arm.  She looked down at it and then back at Merlin, who was softly smiling at her.

 

“You didn’t flinch.”  She moved her arm out the way and her eyes shifted to the back wall where he’d hung.  Merlin noted his mistake and ducked his head in apology.  “Camelot, whole again.  The two halves of a Pendragon’s soul made one; Might and Magic.”  She didn’t respond to him, but her furtive look told him her mind was working quickly through what he’d said.

 

“Your solution is for me to marry Arthur?  He’s my brother, even if he is a half wit.”  Merlin’s face clouded with a strangely dark look for a moment, before he covered it again.  A flash of insight brought the thought of his jealousy to her, and Morgana couldn’t help but wonder. 

 

“No.  Not marry him.  But join him.  Counsel him to be a better ruler for those with Magic.  Albion will unite under him, and we can together…”

 

“What?” she demanded, cutting him off abruptly.  “Marry and live happily ever after?  Why should I take a subordinate role, Merlin?  Because I’m a woman?  Why should he wear the crown and not I?”  Merlin sighed and made a cutting notion with his hand.

 

“No.  Arthur is destined to be the once and future king.  It’s destiny.  I’m asking you to… to…”  She stared at him, urging him silently to speak, and yet terrified of what he might say.  Merlin ploughed ahead gamely.  “To join me.  Together, we could achieve everything we’ve ever wanted beyond our own selfish desires.  Come back to Camelot, Morgana.  With me.  You’ve been hidden away from a world that needs a leader for far too long.”  His gaze was so intense that it captivated her, his utter and complete faith in them rocked her.  She wanted to believe that he was just trying to trick her.  But she’d seen it.  This was the possibility she’d seen, with the girl in the tower and Merlin’s apprentices, all bearing the mark of Camelot. 

 

“You honestly believe this is going to work?”  She was incredulous, and stood up, moving away from him as she did so, feeling her fears getting to her.  He was offering her that long awaited other way, wherein things could be different.  All she had to do was to give up everything she’d ever known about wanting. 

 

“I have to.”  Morgana whirled on him and hugged herself. 

 

“Why?”  He smiled at her, such a goofy smile filled with such optimistic promise and simple, honest truth.

 

“Because I love you.  I’ve always loved you.  And I’m tired of hiding every part of myself.  I’m tired of hiding everything about who I am.  I’m your destiny, Morgana, but just as much, you’re mine.  You’re worried about me being your doom, well, spend the rest of your life with me, if that’s what you’re doomed to; there could be worse fates out there!”  Morgana stared at him.  Merlin scrambled out from the table and came up to her, holding her hands.  She didn’t flinch.  Until he knelt down on one knee and she stumbled back in shock, sitting very suddenly on the end of her bed. 

 

“Join me, Morgana.  Help me bring magic back.  I can’t do it without you.  I’ve tried, and I know I can’t do it without you because you can’t do it without me.  So lets do it together.  Please.”

 

“Get up.  You don’t know what you’re asking, Merlin.”  Her breath raked at her throat and she blinked furiously, reeling from his smile even as he held her hands over her knees.  They shook in his warm hands.

 

“I do.  I’m asking you to give me a chance.  A chance to spend the rest of my life making up for every wrong I ever did you.”  Morgana stood up and moved away from him again, leaving him on the ground.  Merlin’s hands dropped to his sides and his face fell.  Morgana looked at him over her shoulder as the silence hung thick in the air.

 

“Damn you, Morgana.”  He was across the room in an instant and their lips were pressed together.  Morgana grabbed him and held him against her, kissing him back as hard and passionately as he did her.  The kiss stalled as she panted against his lips and mouth, then pushed him away with one hand on his chest. 

 

“No, Merlin.  I won’t.”  Her hand pushed against his chest, but Merlin opened his eyes and licked his lips, tasting her on him.  Morgana’s heart was thundering in her chest, and so was Merlin’s, as she could feel against her palm.  He pushed her forward slowly, and she gave way to him as he pushed. 

 

“I’m serious about this.  This can work.  We can work.”  He brought his hand up over hers and held her against his chest.  Morgana’s elbow bent and he stepped up to her, holding her hand over his heart.  “I know you’re hurting, Morgana.”  Her pain cracked her veneer and tears formed in her eyes, shining in the dim light.

 

“Of course I’m hurting, Merlin.  Kindest man to ever hold my hand and I’m not even human enough to carry his baby.  Maybe before, Merlin, but after everything, I hate…  I can’t even look in the mirror.  I’m a monster.”  He stepped close then, pressing against her as she let him, kissing at her hair and murmuring against her.

 

“We’re not monsters, Morgana.  We’re people.  We have magic.  We’re just as broken as any other person walking the earth; it’s just that we can change the world.  That doesn’t make us more or less anything else; that just makes us human.  Morgana.  Look at me.  I’m begging you.”  She looked at him then and felt the tears coming down.

 

“Stop it.  Stop this.”  Her tears fell across her cheeks and she closed her eyes, feeling the pain of him against her as he kissed at her temple, like that day in the forest.  “Don’t take my hate, Merlin.  It’s all I have left.”

 

He tilted her head up to him and kissed her, once.  Soft, warm love against her mouth as she fought for breath in her pain.  “You’ve got more.  You’ve got me.  If you’ll have me.”  Another sob escaped her and she shook her head.

 

“No, Merlin, not like this.  I don’t even know if this is because of what I did to you, or what I’ve become, or…”  He put a finger on her lips and leant back in, close enough that she couldn’t possibly think that he wanted anything other than to kiss her.  Morgana’s hand clenched on his shirt and pulled him towards her, kissing him softly.   

 

Their tears mixed softly in their kiss as they relaxed against one another.  Morgana slowly led Merlin to her bed and lay down on it, folding herself tentatively into his arms again.  Merlin kissed her temple and gave her a smile. 

 

“This isn’t going to be easy.  But it’s going to be worth it.”  Another smile, this one wider again that she answered with a hesitant smile of her own.  The next morning, both of them woke easily, still embraced.  As they woke nearly every morning after that, no matter where they were or what they faced.  Both of them stayed. 

 

*           *           *           *           *           *           *

 

Camelot welcomed its daughter back slowly, hesitantly at first, as was natural.  When Morgana’s magic saved a sick woman and her son, the townsfolk thanked her, though not kindly.  Merlin’s steadfast belief in her every waking moment sustained her during that time.  When Gwen fell sick during their first pregnancy, Arthur sent for Morgana, who helped the difficult birth, and saved the queen’s life when she haemorrhaged.  Merlin asked Arthur if he could shift out of his room and into the disused Eastern Tower.  Morgana moved in as construction was completed.  Amused, Arthur had asked them to at least marry to cut down the talk.  Their first daughter was born just over a year later.

 

Her vision came to pass several years later, as Anna sat at her father’s feet and smiled at something unseen.  Morgana smiled to herself as Merlin leaned down to his tutting daughter and his hand touched hers.  He straightened in confusion, then looked at Morgana, who smiled at him and ran a hand over her again rounded belly absently. 

 

“Husband…?” she asked, curious but amused.  He turned back to his students with a shrug and Anna looked at her mother and smiled.  Morgana smiled back.


End file.
